


Rehearsal

by Lanna Michaels (lannamichaels)



Category: LOTRPS
Genre: April Showers Challenge 2011
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-07-15
Updated: 2003-07-15
Packaged: 2017-10-18 14:44:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/189962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lannamichaels/pseuds/Lanna%20Michaels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything needs to be tried at least once.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rehearsal

**Author's Note:**

> For Lamath.

  
"Minas Tirith is the safer road," Sean says hesitantly, trying to get into Boromir's character enough to draw on the Gondorian's fear and vulnerabilities. "You know that. From there we can regroup. Strike out for Mordor from a place of strength."

Viggo sits on a director's chair and reads his next line from the page in front of him. He prefers to sit while running lines. He would never admit to Sean it was because he liked being eyelevel with the other man's dick. It isn't professional. "There is no strength in Gondor that can avail us."

"You were quick enough to trust the elves! Have you so little faith in your own people? Yes, there is weakness, there is frailty, but there is courage also, and honor to be found in men! But you will not see _that_." Sean turns to Viggo and there's a fey light in his eyes. Viggo shifts uncomfortably in the chair. "You are afraid!" And the tone is triumphant. Boromir has finally found a weakness in his king and is gleely exploiting it. "All your life you have hidden in the shadow, scared of who you are, of what you are!"

Sometimes Viggo just has to wonder how much Phillippa knows of his own past. Exchange the words 'eager to jump Sean' for 'scared of being a king of man' and you have Viggo right there. Not much difference between Dane and Heir. Viggo looks up at Sean. "I will not lead the City within a hundred leagues of your Ring," he says in complete seriousness. "In fact, I will not lead your City anywhere, Boromir. Deal with it. Reverse physcology does not work on scruffy-looking Northerners."

"I'm a scruffy-looking Northerner," Sean gripes and collapses into a sprawl on the red bean-bag chair in the corner. "Boromir's a right git."

"Oh?"

"No piece of gold is worth dying for." Sean's voice grows melancholy and he stares at his now-bare ring finger. Divorce papers are well and done with. Sean's no longer married. For the third time.

"He died for his country."

"He died for you! For his king, who didn't seem to care very much according to the book. 'Oh, look, Boromir's dead. I've failed. Now, on to more important things.' Hero, my arse."

"It's a nice arse," Viggo points out. They're close enough friends that he can say that with some safety.

"That's what they tell me." Sean sighs and looks away. "Shall we do another run through?"

"Naw. Call it a night. You could come over, we can have a drink and watch Sharpe."

"So you can oogle my arse through those pants?" That fey light's back. Viggo swallows hard on a dry throat.

"Sure."

"Don't see why I should," Sean pauses. "When you can do it here."

Viggo blinks and before his eyes could open again, he finds himself rugbytackled to the floor.

"Sean?!"

"Yes?" Sean's voice is calm, belaying the fact that his fingers are making quick work of Viggo's khakis.

"What are you doing?"

"Making sure your coming will be seen from the White Tower."

That makes Viggo stop and think and before he can come up with a suitable reply about it being _Boromir_ they're looking for, Sean has him in his mouth. All words de-evolve into gurgles and sweet Danish nothings in his throat and he sighs. This is nice.

"So," Sean says as he finishes. "Anything else on the agenda?"

"Fuck me?"

"Sure."

Sean clears off the pages of the script that had flown everywhere when Sean made his beautiful dive. He finds some convenient lubricant and condom (those film crews, so slutty) and slicks himself up.

Then he fucks Viggo. Slow, then fast, and Viggo comes for a second time in a half an hour. If you want reality, go someplace else. This fic already isn't true. Deal.

Sean cleans up as best he can while Viggo lays panting on the floor, wondering where his pants got to. Then Sean bends over to kiss his forehead.

"In general, performance was satisfactory. For particulars, however, I would need to have a repeat performance. What would you say to dinner at my place tomorrow night?"

"Gurgle," says Viggo in agreement.

"Good. Then it's a date."

Then, with a sunny smile, Sean walks out, closing the door behind him.  
   
 


End file.
